


feels like we're floating

by heatdeath (keptein)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Other, Polyamory, Subspace, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/heatdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Other times, it’s like today. Koutarou wouldn’t know they were playing if he hadn’t agreed to it beforehand, if he couldn’t feel the line of his silver, unassuming day collar around his throat. There are still rules, but Koutarou has to guess them, and it’s not as bad if he gets one wrong. Koutarou likes this kind of play the best - where he’s not in danger of losing himself completely, but the safety and sureness sets into his bones, making him affectionate and content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feels like we're floating

**Author's Note:**

> uhh........ anyway
> 
> thanks to aj, bishop and toma. also yea bokuto's a trans man bc. reasons. kinda written for bokuakakuroweek day 6: training, but it's super late. enjoy this filth.

They don’t play very often. They all have busy lives, and Keiji insists on leaving the next day free too, in case anything happens. It hasn’t, but neither of the other two protest, and the end result is that they only play once or twice a month. It’s still new enough to make Koutarou excited and nervous, but familiar enough that he knows what to do, what not to do.

Sometimes, if they have time, their play is formal. Keiji in leather, Tetsurou in suits - Koutarou naked, maybe bound. There are rules on how to address them, how to touch, where to look. There are bruises and tears and it’s  _ good, _ overwhelmingly good, but also exhausting.

Other times, it’s like today. Koutarou wouldn’t know they were playing if he hadn’t agreed to it beforehand, if he couldn’t feel the line of his silver, unassuming day collar around his throat. There are still rules, but Koutarou has to guess them, and it’s not as bad if he gets one wrong. Koutarou likes this kind of play the best - where he’s not in danger of losing himself completely, but the safety and sureness sets into his bones, making him affectionate and content.

“Can I go for my run?” he asks Keiji in the morning, who hides a yawn behind his hand as he nods. “Thank you,” Koutarou says, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t let anyone stare,” Tetsurou says from where he’s sitting against the headboard, lounging and still only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“I’ll try not to,” Koutarou says, getting off the bed and changing into shorts and a comfortable t-shirt. “But I can’t help it if people are hungry for the B.”

Tetsurou snorts with laughter, making Koutarou relax - so he can talk back today.

Good. He likes talking back.

“Bye!” He waves to them both, about to leave, but Keiji interrupts him with a hand in the air to wave him over.

“Buy breakfast on the way back,” he tells him. “You know what I like.”

This is a test, Koutarou realises, and his heart thuds with excitement. A test means he can be rewarded, as long as he passes it. “Okay!” he says, a little too eager. “Will do!”

Tetsurou laughs again at Koutarou’s obviousness, and the embarrassment sends a flush down his spine, makes him weak in the knees.

“I love you,” he says quickly, and then he’s out of the door, fast steps uneven until he finds his rhythm.

*

He picks up okonomiyaki for Keiji, because he’d mentioned craving it during the week, and Keiji rewards him by fucking him in the kitchen, Koutarou’s hip bones bruising where they slam against the counter. Tetsurou watches them with dark eyes and a grin, finishing the last of his coffee.

Keiji strokes a hand through Koutarou’s hair when he’s done, kisses the top of his spine and whispers praise so intimate that Koutarou’s body shudders, threatening to come again.

So that’s breakfast.

*

In the afternoon, Tetsurou does work, using Koutarou as a foot rest. It’s more of a way to keep Koutarou in use and not lose the mood than anything else, a way to enforce the dynamic without wearing Koutarou out. He likes it, being on his hands and knees - even though he doesn’t feel very sexy with Tetsurou’s feet on him, he feels warm and content to be helpful, and the lack of input forces his brain to slow down. Koutarou stays still, and he stays quiet, until the weight on his back feels like just another part of him. He loses track of time, the ache in his knees and shoulders becoming faint and distant.

When Tetsurou moves his feet away, it feels like a loss, and he whines without meaning to, head hanging low. Then, suddenly, there is heat all along his back, Tetsurou murmuring softly in his ear. “Good boy, so good, it’s okay…”

“‘m,” Koutarou starts, but his tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he doesn’t know what to say. Tetsurou kisses the shell of his ear and shushes him, soft and soothing. “It’s okay, don’t worry about a thing, babe, just relax… You’ve been so good, I’m gonna reward you…”

He strokes up Koutarou’s sides, hugging him and helping him gently up on the couch. “I’m gonna feed you, and then we’re going to watch a movie,” Tetsurou says. Koutarou blinks heavily and nods to show he’s listening. “That’s your reward.”

“Thank you,” Koutarou says, voice scrapy. Tetsurou nods and stands up, disappearing for a moment.

Koutarou draws his legs up and stretches out his hands, looking at his fingers and the space between them. He’s in his head, but he’s also outside of it, even though the two are slowly merging again. He is both his fingers and the space between them.

A dip in the couch - Tetsurou sits down next to him, and Koutarou crawls into his lap, mute with gratitude. “Hey, sweetheart,” Tetsurou says, tilting Koutarou’s head to give him a kiss. “Keiji’s joining us soon. You okay?”

Koutarou nods. Tetsurou smiles and holds a piece of fruit up to his lips, waiting until Koutarou’s tongue wraps around his fingers before pulling them away. Koutarou closes his eyes as he chews, tartness exploding on his tongue. Tetsurou keeps bringing pieces to his mouth, letting Koutarou lick his fingers clean after every bite. Piece by piece, Koutarou comes back to himself, and when the couch dips again, he opens his eyes and gives Keiji a wide smile. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Keiji says, reaching over to thumb at his collar, pulling at it gently. “Were you good for Tetsurou?”

“Very good,” Tetsurou says, ruffling Koutarou’s hair. “So good that I’m going to let him pick the movie.”

“Wow,” Keiji says, smiling. “What do you want to watch?”

“Kung Fu Hustle,” Koutarou says.

“Not Secretary?” Tetsurou teases, and Koutarou flushes and shakes his head.

“Kung Fu Hustle it is,” Keiji says, getting up to turn it on - he gets the movie playing and then joins them on the couch again, sitting so close Koutarou is almost sandwiched between them. He shifts so he’s sprawling half on top of them, legs splayed shamelessly, each knee hooked over one of the others’.

Tetsurou rests his hand on Koutarou’s inner thigh. Koutarou can feel the heat of his hand through his shorts, exciting and relaxing him all at once. Keiji’s hand is on the nape of his neck, tugging at the collar every so often - a steady, thrumming reminder.

Ten minutes of the movie pass before Tetsurou’s hand slides further up, pressing against Koutarou’s clit through his jeans and making him sigh. “I’m gonna play with you,” Tetsurou says, low and purring, and  _ God,  _ Koutarou could come just from the sound of his voice when they’re like this. “But you have to keep it down, so we don’t interrupt Keiji.”

Keiji hums, hand on his neck tightening. Koutarou swallows and nods, eyes flickering from the TV to Tetsurou. “Yes, Tetsu,” he says, and Tetsurou smirks and slides his hand into Koutarou’s underwear. He plays with his clit, eyes on the screen, seemingly playing no attention to Koutarou’s bitten-off moans and strangled gasps at particular slides of his fingers, presses of his nails.

Tetsurou is maddeningly good with his fingers, unrelenting but also never pushing it further, never giving Koutarou enough to take him over the edge. “Watch the movie,” Tetsurou murmurs, after Koutarou’s closed his eyes tightly, fighting the pleasure laced with frustration. “You picked it.”

“Mmn,” Koutarou says, forcing his eyes open to stare blankly at the screen. Tetsurou laughs and pinches his clit, making Koutarou buck and swear through his teeth. He’s trying to be quiet, and he’s trying to be good, but it’s  _ hard, _ what with Tetsurou’s fingers and the need building in his stomach, making him sweat and shift.

Keiji tugs on his collar just as Tetsurou presses his nail into him, and Koutarou can’t help the strangled, loud gasp that escapes him, hands coming up in a desperate last bid to silence himself. It doesn’t work, and he hides behind his fingers, moving to get away - but warm hands keep him still.

“Don’t hide,” Keiji says, and Koutarou obediently drop his hands. He is looking away, flushed red, hips still moving into Tetsurou’s fingers. “Tetsurou told you not to interrupt me.”

“I know,” Koutarou moans, “I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry -”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Koutarou.” The dangerous undertone of his voice makes Koutarou shut up immediately, makes heat sizzle down his spine and his thighs press together in want.

Tetsurou laughs. “He liked that.”

“I know,” Keiji says, dark eyes hooded and looking at Tetsurou while his hand skates down Koutarou’s front, fingers running over the tendons in Tetsurou’s arm, how they move and shift as he jerks Koutarou off. “He’s easy.”

Koutarou lets out a short noise, thighs pressing together again. Tetsurou’s grin broadens. “He liked that too.”

Keiji’s hand follows the line of Tetsurou’s arm until it’s in Koutarou’s underwear, and then there are  _ more _ fingers on him and his head falls back, moaning loudly. He feels woozy with want, legs held apart by Tetsurou and Keiji - two fingers push into him without warning and he cries out, trying to buck up and pull away in the same movement.

“Be  _ quiet _ ,” Keiji tells him, free hand roughly pulling at Koutarou’s hair to make him lift his head again, glassy eyes meeting unreadable green. “You’ve already broken Tetsurou’s rule once, do you want to do it again?”

Koutarou swallows and shakes his head. Keiji’s fingers are moving in him, slow and certain as they thrust.

“Good boy,” Keiji says. The words soothe Koutarou enough to let him relax back into the couch. “You aren’t allowed to come until the movie’s over.”

_ “What,” _ Koutarou cries, dizzy from heat and arousal. “I can’t - really?”

Keiji nods. “That’s your punishment.” His fingers pick up their pace, making Koutarou bite down on his bottom lip, which already feels bruised and raw. He turns to give Tetsurou a pleading look, but Tetsurou is still grinning, fingers rubbing slow circles.

“Sounds good to me,” he says, and Koutarou pouts before Keiji adds another finger and he is reduced to a sweaty, hot mess, desperately working to swallow his moans and noises as both their fingers keep moving, pinching him and rubbing him and fucking him.

He has no chance of paying attention to the movie, so he doesn’t even try, breaths hitching and ragged as he curls and tenses, head rolling from Keiji’s shoulder to Tetsurou’s. They’re playing with him - distantly, Koutarou recognised the hard line of Tetsurou’s cock through his pants, and it makes him feel even warmer to know that he’s doing a good job, they’re enjoying him, he’s pleasing them. It makes the aches go away, and the sore twitch as Tetsurou pulls on his swollen clit doesn’t matter anymore, nothing matters except for Keiji and Tetsurou and this  _ high, _ this addictive, indescribable high that makes every part of him tingle with pleasure and need.

Faintly, from far away, he can hear his own breathing, laboured and heavy, and over it is the sounds of the movie, dialogue Koutarou can’t understand and images moving too fast for him to follow, and it’s all a blur of colour and noise and sensation, prickling warmth washing over him. He feels like he’s drowning, every part of him drenched in sweat and slick, and at some point he closes his eyes, resting his head against something and whimpering hoarsely.

He knows, vaguely, that this will end, that there is a certain release he's waiting for, that this tension isn't infinite - but the promise of release is almost as unbearable as the strain itself, both of them sweet and overwhelming. He is overpowered by his own emotions, by the smell and touch of Keiji, Tetsurou, their hands and their warmth and their commands -

“It's over,” someone says, “you can come,” and there is _more,_ and Koutarou cries as he comes, limbs shaking and painful, every inch of him in pain, in pleasure, in whatever it is that's so demanding, so powerful it makes it all worth it. His vision goes black, white and rainbow sparks dancing around the edges, and even when he starts to come down he's not there so much as _everywhere,_ the world is expanding to fit everything he can feel. The world shifts and shifts again, and then wet heat is on his chest and it must be his feelings spilling out of his skin, no longer bound by anything.

Slow blinking until things start to fall back into place. There’s a hand in his hair, softly stroking, and his legs are folded together, relieving the ache in his thighs. Someone is praising him, soft and steady, and Koutarou shudders again as the words slow down enough to make sense, “you’ve been good, so good for us, such a good sub, we’re proud of you…”

“Hah,” Koutarou says, voice cracking, throat hoarse and hurting.

“Here,” someone says, and he blinks again, eyes focusing long enough to see Tetsurou holding out a glass of water, bringing it to his lips and helping him drink slowly. Koutarou makes a grateful noise, wetting his lips with a relieved sigh when the glass is pulled away.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Keiji says. Koutarou realises he’s folded up against Keiji’s chest, legs pulled over his lap. He nods to show he’s heard it, giving Keiji a wide, tired smile. “We’re going to take your collar off in half an hour.”

Half an hour left. Koutarou nods again, relaxing. He doesn’t have to be himself quite yet - he doesn’t have to pull himself together or say things or make decisions, he can spend some time like this, just existing.

Tetsurou disappears and comes back again, and then he’s feeding him again, sliced strawberries held to his lips. Koutarou chews slowly and thoroughly, letting Tetsurou feed him and bring more water to his lips. “Thank you,” he says when he feels able to, voice scrapy and quiet, and his face feels red and tight with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” Tetsurou says. He leans over and presses his lips against Koutarou’s clammy forehead, lingering for a beat before pulling back.

“Did you…” Koutarou looks down and sees the come on his chest. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Keiji says smoothly, tilting Koutarou’s head up to kiss him too. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”

Koutarou relaxes again, tension releasing, and he sinks down to rest his head against Keiji’s shoulder, breathing evenly. “That was… awesome,” he decides on finally, and smiles to himself at Tetsurou and Keiji’s snorts of laughter.

“It was,” Keiji agrees. Tetsurou strokes a hand over his back, and Koutarou moves his head to see them both, gaze moving languidly between them. They’re both pressed close against him, and he feels safe, secure and small and big and content. He feels like every good movie he’s ever seen, like every volleyball win and like the bus ride home after long days at school, happy and exhausted.

He wants to tell them, mouth opening and closing, but there’s no words that fit well enough. “I feel good,” he says instead, eyes closing when Tetsurou presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“You look good. Fuck, Kou, you look so good…”

Koutarou smiles widely, shy with the intensity of it, hiding it in Keiji’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Keiji strokes his hair, and they both let him hide until he’s calm again, turning to peek at Tetsurou before turning back around. Tetsurou laughs. “Aw, baby, are you shy now? After being on display like that?”

“No,” Koutarou says weakly, blushing, and clears his throat. “No.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou says, teasing but gentle enough that Koutarou doesn’t worry. His heart keeps its steady beat.

“Do you want anything?” Keiji asks, fingers carding soothingly through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

Koutarou shakes his head, pressing closer until he’s almost in Keiji’s lap. He’s too big, and it must look awkward, but it feels fine - and right now that’s all that matters. Tetsurou moves too, and Koutarou can relax back against him, cocooned by them both.

He can’t tell if he’s speaking or not. He thinks he might be mumbling, because his lips are moving, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying… it doesn’t matter. Keiji’s hand is still in his hair, and Tetsurou is still against his back, warm and comforting, and all he’s saying is that he loves them, he loves them.

Then, finally, he starts to return to himself.

It’s not an instant thing - the space is still there, lingering, but he yawns and stretches and realises that he really needs to piss, and he knows being alone for a moment will be fine.

He disentangles himself, aches slowing down his movements. “Gotta pee,” he says, and Tetsurou nods, while Keiji frowns lightly.

“You’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” Koutarou says, and give him a wide enough grin that Keiji relaxes again.

Koutarou goes to the bathroom, does his business and washes his chest and face. When he looks at himself in the mirror, his hair is greasy and matted with sweat, sticking unattractively to his forehead, and he tries to bring it back to life through vigorous ruffling. His lips are red and hurt, so he applies some vaseline before coming back out, immediately reclaiming his spot between Keiji and Tetsurou.

“You didn’t even fuck me,” he says without preamble, and Keiji stills while Tetsurou breaks into laughter, pressing a quick kiss to Koutarou’s temple.

“I wanted to,” Keiji says.

“Oh, you could’ve spitroasted me,” Koutarou says, sitting up. “Then I could’ve - both of you. Right, that would’ve been better?”

“Better?” Tetsurou says, raising his eyebrows, and Koutarou hurries to amend it.

“No, no, not - just, better for you, I mean, not for - it was perfect, I had a good… I had a good time, that’s not what I meant.”

Keiji and Tetsurou exchange a glance. Koutarou looks between them and then swallows, feeling like a colossal idiot. It was a terrible suggestion - if that’s what they wanted, that’s what they would’ve done. Koutarou doesn’t deserve something like that, anyway, and asking for it is nothing short of ungrateful.

“Hey, hey,” Tetsurou says, noticing Koutarou’s expression and tugging him closer, pulling him into his lap and moving them so they’re both facing Keiji. “It wasn’t because we didn’t want to, okay? You’re… you were really hot.” He squeezes him.  _ “Really _ hot. It would’ve been amazing.”

Keiji nods, reaching out to hold Koutarou’s hand, holding it tightly. “You’re always good, Koutarou. You’re perfect.”

“Then why?” Koutarou says, voice wavering, on the brink of cracking.

“You’ve got work on Monday, remember? We couldn’t play too hard.”

Koutarou pauses and looks down, frowning.

“Look at me,” Keiji says, tilting Koutarou’s head up. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

Koutarou snorts a little at the irony, and Keiji’s brow furrows.

“We  _ don’t. _ I don’t want to bring you pain. Not outside of this.”

Koutarou nods, feeling small. “I know.”

Tetsurou noses at his hair, arms resting around Koutarou’s stomach. “It’s better to not go far enough than to go too far, right? You’re already going to be feeling it for a couple of days.”

“I know,” Koutarou says again as he shifts and grimaces. “I - I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Keiji says, squeezing his hand again. “It’s good to ask for what you want. We’ll remember it for next time.”

“Okay.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Tetsurou says quietly. Koutarou swallows and closes his eyes, leaning back against him.

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to take your collar off now.”

Koutarou nods, not opening his eyes, exhaling when the thin pressure is removed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tetsurou says with a quiet laugh. “We take care of each other tonight, okay? We should have dinner soon, and then you can pick a movie. For real this time.”

Koutarou shakes his head. “I wanna watch what Keiji wants to watch,” he says, and opens his eyes to see Keiji’s surprised face, eyebrows raised for a beat before he smiles.

“That’s very gracious of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Koutarou says grandiosely, and Keiji’s smile grows into a grin, laughing as he shakes his head.

“There you are.”

Koutarou grins back cheekily, eyes dancing. “Here I am. Also, guess who’s not cooking?”

“Let me guess…”

“That’s right, it’s me!”

Tetsurou groans. “No, I don’t wanna cook.”

“But you have to take care of me…”

“Take out?” Keiji suggests, and the other two nod vigorously.

“Excellent suggestion, my sweet Keiji,” Tetsurou says, and Keiji wrinkles his nose.

“God, not you too. You’re both ridiculous. I’m going to go order.” He stands up, heading to his study to fetch his laptop.

“I love you,” Koutarou calls after him, and then he turns between Tetsurou’s legs to look at him, kissing him quickly. “I love you also.”

“I love you too,” Tetsurou says, and pulls him in for a deeper, gentle kiss. They stay that way until Keiji comes back, and then they both drag him in for a bone-crushing love hug, exclaiming their affection again and again and again, until Keiji has no other choice but to laugh and say it back.

**Author's Note:**

> [tungl](http://tivruskis.tumblr.com) | [twt](http://twitter.com/tivruskis)


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